


Cold Hands and Snowflakes

by TwentySevenSorceress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cheesy, Fluff, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8970031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwentySevenSorceress/pseuds/TwentySevenSorceress
Summary: The snow wasn't in the weather prediction, so he didn't bring a jacket to school. Stuck waiting for his brother in the freezing cold, Castiel is shocked when the troubled boy he always stares at in class lends him his jacket for the night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you smile at least once.

The bell at the end of the school day usually sounds like audible vindication to Castiel, some sort of applause for surviving every hour and a promise that the day will close. Today, it sounds like cruel laughter.

The snow had started near the start of the school day, after he had rushed through the doors wearing only a short sleeved shirt and jeans, rubbing his arms and nearly skidding on the icy patches of concrete. It had been freezing outside then, and in hindsight, Castiel probably should've brought a jacket just for that.

He had been running late that morning, and the second before he darted out the door, he had thought about stumbling back and grabbing a jacket. He'd figured, however, that he'd be inside for nearly the entire day, was it really an _absolute necessity_? One thing he had not factored into the equation, though, was the possibility of snow. The last week had been nothing but chilly air and light frost that dusted the grass, botched weather reports and a depressed student body that pouted at the denied blizzards.

What a _wonderful_ coincidence that he had decided to forego warm clothes on the worst possible day so far this school year to do so, he thought. The snow hadn't let up all day, the wind whipping it fast one second, the sky looking as if it had more ice than air, and letting the flakes drift slow and lazy the next. In four of Castiel's classes, the teacher had closed the blinds due to the students gazing longingly out the windows instead of resting a dead, vacant gaze upon the teacher's own droning lecture.

After Castiel can no longer join his class in staring at the snowfall, he decides to shift his own longing gaze to Dean Winchester. The other boy sits off to the side, usually with his head turned downwards and appearing stuck in his own little world. After so many months of staring at him, Castiel has noticed how every time a teacher calls on Dean, he smirks and makes some smart-ass remark before going back to doodling in his notebook or tracing the lines of the woodgrain pattern on his desk. Castiel doesn’t know why this captivates him so much, maybe because he knows there’s a story behind Dean’s defensiveness and aversion to the tedium of school.

Dean Winchester is a puzzle he is yet to crack.

Castiel has heard rumors, scared whispers that tell of yelling that can be heard from Dean’s house in the darkest hours of night. Sometimes Dean comes to school with bruises, and when asked about them, shrugs and says something about having gotten in a fight. Even now, Castiel can see the ghost of a bruise beneath his cheekbone. Even though kids talk, no one really seems to care. But Castiel does. He doesn’t know why, but he does.

He lets his eyes skate over the slope of Dean’s jaw and the smooth planes of his face. Sure, it’s really creepy, but Castiel has accepted that. He really can’t help himself at this point, he’s in too deep. He can’t get over how pretty Dean is, or the way he smiles, how he carries himself with an easy confidence that Castiel doesn’t have. Yes, it’s ridiculous to feel this way at all, given that Dean has had too many girlfriends to count in the three years he’s been in high school. _There’s always a chance,_ a pesky voice at the corner of his mind whispers. But he knows that his chances with Dean are the same whether the guy turns out to be completely straight or not, given that there’s nothing about Castiel that could keep anyone. He’s just… himself. Not to mention that Dean lives in a completely different social circle that actually gives him some sort of respect. The juxtaposition of _Dean_ next to _him_ is laughable at best. There really isn’t a point indulging himself in this fantasy… if only he could turn it off somehow.

Of course he’s thought about just _talking_ to Dean, but every imagined scenario ends in Castiel embarrassing himself horribly while dozens of eyes look on in vindictive amusement. It’s true, he can’t work it up to talk to Dean, and never will, because he’s a stupid, nervous, cowardly, _idiot._ And that’s that.

When class ends, he sighs inwardly as he tears his eyes away from Dean and robotically gathers his things.

…

Castiel sits in the back of the room during his final class, he winces as the students rush past him, eager to flock outside and plunder the snow blanketed across the expansive school grounds. He stays frozen in his seat, imagining the wait for Gabriel in this weather. The teacher will tell him to get going soon, so instead of sticking around and waiting for that moment, he slowly slides from his chair and packs his things slowly, amidst the newly empty desks.

 _I'll stick it out somehow,_ he resolves, tugging his backpack onto his shoulders and striding out of the room.

There are only a few people milling about in front of the school when he arrives, he's late enough that most of the students have driven off or run somewhere off campus. Castiel wishes he had a car of his own, so he didn't have to rely on his obnoxious older brother to pick him up, but Naomi would always tell him off for suggesting it, repeating that the idea of the household owning three cars is ridiculous. _“Should I give_ Anna _her own car when she turns sixteen? There are better things to spend money on, Castiel.”_

Castiel is painfully aware of the fact that he is the only one in the courtyard not bundled up, the other students wear down jackets and thick, fluffy scarves, soft earmuffs and fur-lined boots. He sticks out clearly, the other people giving him looks as if he was covered in splattered paint.

The air is frigid and stabs his throat when he gasps, it presses up against his skin, making it burn with cold. His heart beats loud in his ears, the minutes ticking by excruciatingly long. His fingers soon go painfully numb, they feel clumsy and stone-heavy when he tries to move them.

The courtyard slowly empties as time ticks forward. Snowflakes land on his face and melt at the touch, making him wince at the freezing bite.

“Hey!”

Castiel spins around to face the sudden voice that pierces the air, startled by the sudden noise after the previous stretching silence.

Dean is sprinting towards him, his heavy looking boots making a loud crunching sound in the snow. Castiel freezes in place, paralyzed with a sudden, seizing fear. _He’s even more beautiful up close…_

“Dude!” Dean pants, bending over with his hands on his knees. His shoulders rise up and down with his gasps of breath as Castiel watches with wide eyes and tensed muscles. “What the hell are you doing out here without a jacket?” Castiel can see the vaporous clouds of breath rise and dissipate from Dean’s frozen words.

“Um,” Castiel mumbles eloquently. “I… I, um…”

What is Dean doing? He can clearly see the sleek black car on the curb with the driver’s side door still thrown ajar, it looks like Dean has just caught a glimpse of him and come running.

He racks his brain for something to say, some sort of conclusion to draw or reassuring phrase to deflect the burning spotlight of Dean’s attention. “I forgot one,” he blurts, heat rushing to his frozen face, “I just… I’m okay.” The words come out rushed and jumbled.

Dean frowns. “No, no you’re not. It’s twenty-five degrees outside. You’ll freeze.”

Castiel chuckles, still attempting to shake off the shock of the moment. “I think that ship has already sailed, Dean.” _Fuck, I just said his name,_ Castiel realizes, feeling very much like banging his head against the nearby brick wall.

But Dean just smiles. “Doesn’t mean I can’t save it, somehow.” He shrugs off the heavy leather jacket that Castiel has never seen him without, and thrusts it towards him. “Here. I’m driving home now, anyways. And I know it’s not really a winter coat, but you’re shivering like crazy, _Cas._ ” The breath catches in Castiel’s throat. Nickname, he just tried to coin a nickname.

It is then that he realizes that he is shaking violently, but it had escalated so slowly that he hadn’t really noticed. He must look like such a _charity case…_

“No offense, you have a nice name. Really unique. Sticks in your head. But _everyone_ calls you ‘Castiel’.” As if that isn’t enough, Dean fucking _winks._

 _What’s he talking about?_ Castiel wonders. _Is he implying something separates himself and everyone else… in relation to me?_

Castiel bites his lip, eyes glued to the concrete, and takes the jacket from his hands. “Th- thank you.” The words feel garbled and slurred on his tongue. “Thank you,” he repeats, clearer this time. “I… I’ll give it back to you tomorrow?” He tucks the jacket under one arm.

Dean nods quickly, opening his mouth as if to say something before quickly closing it again. “Yeah… yeah. Alright. Hope you make it home okay.” _Dean’s smile is getting more and more nervous and strained…_

Castiel can’t brush the observation away.

“You looked so miserable in the snow, man, and I just had to, I couldn’t not-” Dean shuts his mouth, screwing his eyes shut. “I mean, that’s not it, I just…” Dean breaks off with a resigned sigh. 

Castiel furrows his brow, noticing that the sudden lack of the charisma and charm Dean has spent years pushing as his identity has cracked slightly.

Dean clears his throat before continuing, kicking at a lump in the snow at his feet. “Maybe it’s just that I feel this weird obligation to do it because you always stare at me in History but-“

“S-sorry?” Castiel stammers, his face burning with a fierce blush.

“Oh,” Dean says. “Hey, I know that it’s hard to stare secretively. Not a lot of people can pull that off. And I’m kind of glad that you’re not one of them, because then I wouldn’t know who you were. So it kind of worked out in the end, didn’t it?” He runs a hand through his hair, making a few of the snowflakes that dotted it disappear.

Castiel’s heart beats loudly in his ears, he can’t think straight. What’s happening? It’s some kind of dream, right? Or perhaps a nightmare?

Dean turns his head to look at his car before focusing on Castiel again. “Sorry,” he offers with a sheepish smile. “My baby brother’s waiting in the car. He’s probably pissed by now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Cas.”

And with that, he turns around and walks back to his car, being sure to flash Castiel one last smile before getting in and driving away.

As the car speeds away, Castiel slides his arms into the sleeves of Dean’s jacket and tugs it tighter around his body. It dwarfs him, as Dean is taller and broader than he is. He buries his nose in the collar, inhaling the scent that clings to the worn from wear leather; it’s a boyish musk and light spice and something like dark chocolate.

The warmth that settles in after a few minutes has him almost purring, wanting to thank Dean over and over and over again. The burn of that cold had been nearly unbearable, he has no clue what he would’ve done by now without the jacket, considering it has been nearly half an hour since school ended. Gabriel has officially slipped into “obscenely late” territory.

He’s not sure exactly what just happened, or how totally screwed he is now that Dean Winchester knows his face, name, and apparently, crush. All he wants to think about is the sound of Dean’s voice when it’s rough from the cold and the soft scents and warmth of his jacket, he wants to think about his nervous smile and the way snowflakes catch in the fair strands of his hair.

...

The next day, school is cancelled due to the snowstorm the previous night. The roads are too dangerous to drive, decides the school board, so all schools in the district are closed. Castiel wouldn’t mind so much, if he hadn’t promised to give Dean his jacket back today. Obviously he would understand, but… it just felt wrong somehow.

Castiel lay down in his bed, legs stretched and headphones on. He’s playing light classical music from his phone, trying to calm down and think. His vacant gaze settled on the snow covered hills visible through the window. He falls into a light trance, the music drowning out the sound of clanging dishes downstairs and the blaring of TV coming from Gabriel’s room next door.

His wandering eyes keep falling to the brown jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. Its image isn’t letting him relax, he has to _do_ something. Logically, of course, he knows it would be nearly impossible to actually return Dean’s jacket today.  He doesn’t know Dean’s address, and even if he did, there’s no way he’d be able to convince his mother or Gabriel to let him borrow a car in this weather, let alone drive in it.

Just as he attempts to reconcile the dilemma in his mind, he jolts as his ringtone replaces the soft music playing through his headphones. He scrambles to answer it, frowning at the number he doesn’t recognize before pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?” he asks, sitting up and pushing his back up against his bed’s headboard. He rubs at his eyes with his free fist, muffling a yawn on his shoulder.

“Hi, is this Castiel? Castiel Novak?” He tilts his head in confusion at the voice, the sort of squeaky tenor of a prepubescent boy. He doesn’t recognize it.

“Yes. May I ask who this is?” Castiel shifts his weight, crossing his legs and rolling his shoulders back.

“It’s Sam Winchester, I think you know my brother Dean?” _Wait, what?_ So, the “baby brother” Dean had been referring to before returning to his car?

“Oh. I didn’t think… you knew who I was?” There, a reasonable question. Now he just has to get to why Sam was _calling him._

“Well, I’m a friend of Anna’s, so I’ve seen you around. Usually reading on some couch, walking in front of her room, stuff like that.” Well, that was unexpected. It still doesn’t answer the question of why Sam had contacted him in the first place. “That’s how I got your number. And I had to get your number, Dean was being a miserable idiot.”

Castiel coughs. “Sorry, what?”

“He’s moping around the house, alright? Dad was still asleep when we woke up, so Dean was downstairs, making us breakfast. I told him about school being cancelled, but he wasn’t happy about it for some reason. I mean, he did try to smile, I guess, so there’s that.” Castiel’s fingers feel as numb as they were yesterday, they mindlessly grip the phone. He’s trying so hard not to dare or hope, but it’s not working. “So I asked him what was wrong, and he started muttering that the guy he lent his jacket to wouldn’t give it back today.” Castiel closes his eyes as his heart sinks.

“Look, I’m really, really sorry, I didn’t think about school being cancelled, I shouldn’t have taken it, I-”

“Woah, whoa, whoa!” Sam interjected. “That’s not it. It’s that he never parts with his stupid jacket, I think he associates it with our dad’s car. He’s basically in love with both. Maybe the car more so, but still. I knew when he ran back to the car without a jacket, whoever he ‘just had to give it to’ was pretty special to him. I figured it was some girl he had a crush on, but it turned out to be some _guy_ he had a crush on.”

His heart is beating out of his chest, the fingers that hold his phone tremble. “You have to be mistaken, how do you even know-”

“I just do,” he states simply. “I know him better than anyone else. And I know he’s disappointed school got cancelled because now his excuse to see you is gone.”

“Excuse to see me?”

“The _jacket,_ dude. Him giving you the jacket gave him an excuse to talk to you yesterday, today, and put him on your good side on top of it. Dean probably thought he was being _so_ smooth.” Sam’s laugh mingles with static over the receiver.  Castiel fights the urge to counter with a claim that Dean _was_ actually fairly smooth yesterday, but he knows this is definitely not the time.

“Anyways,” Sam continues, “I called Anna this morning and asked to come over, so we could play in your criminally enormous backyard or something, and she said sure. That way, Dean can see you, because he always insists on walking me places, even if it’s just the two blocks to Anna’s. And he can finally cheer up. His glumness is pretty contagious, you know.”

Castiel knows his breathing has picked up considerably, and that Sam can probably hear it. But… he could actually see Dean today. After all that worrying about how he wouldn’t be able to.  It would look like a coincidence, he realizes. _Oh whoops, I happen to be the older brother of your brother’s friend. While you’re here, why don’t you come in?_

Why, Sam is an evil genius.

And it would be just like Castiel to wreck such a rare plan, one where the pieces fit so neatly together. It would probably have something to do with the fact that when Dean comes near him, he somehow loses the ability to communicate using organized syntax.

…

He’s curled up on the plush, velvet couch rereading _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ when the doorbell rings. He jerks his head back to gaze worriedly at the door before sitting back up again, biting his lip in terrified anticipation. Castiel takes a deep breath and one last sip of hot chocolate before setting the mug down on the nearby coffee table and pulling the book slightly away from his face. He is too scared to tear his eyes away from the comfort of the pages just yet.

Anna comes running down the stairs, not touching the banister that lines it. Her giggling lasts after she throws the door open and ushers Sam inside.

“Alright, have fun Sammy,” comes an all too familiar voice.

“Hey, maybe stay awhile?” Sam pipes up. “It’s a cold walk back.”

“Um…” begins Dean.

Castiel determinedly closes the book and stands up, turning around so that Dean can see his face. He smiles. “Yes, Dean. Stay awhile. O-only if you want to, of course.” He nervously gauges Dean’s reaction with one eye open.

He’s staring back with his mouth agape, and straightens his back after a few seconds. “Yeah, yeah, of course… Cas.”

If it were anyone else… he would probably correct them and ask them to say his real name instead. But somehow… somehow it makes sense what Dean said yesterday. “Castiel” is what everyone _else_ says. It’s twisted logic that does nothing but showcase Castiel’s confirmation bias, but a guy can hope.

Castiel is reasonably sure that he’s the only one to catch the knowing smile on Sam’s face.

Anna grabs Sam’s wrist and starts to lead him upstairs. “We’ll head out back soon,” she tells Castiel, confusion from what just transpired still evident on her face. Before she and Sam disappear, Sam inclines his head to give Castiel a knowing look.

When he turns back to Dean, he sees that he’s just unzipped a light windbreaker and slipped in onto the coatrack. Castiel notices how his cheeks are red from the bitter cold and how carelessly his scarf is thrown around his neck.

“So,” Dean says, walking closer. “You’re Anna’s brother, huh?”

Castiel nods, suddenly unsure. “One of them, yes.”

“All this time, and I never knew,” he chuckles. “I knew where you lived all along, but never realized it. Oh, the irony.”

Awkward silence settles, and Castiel looks down, fidgeting. Is there something he’s supposed to do now? Oh, right- “I’ll go get your jacket. Then you can leave, right?” He tries to put all the enthusiasm he can muster into the words, which, in the end, isn’t very much.

“Well…” Dean trails off, searching for words. “I kind of want… to stay longer? If you didn’t mind?”

Castiel blinks. “Oh. Sure.” He hadn’t considered the possibility of Dean wanting to socialize. “I just made hot chocolate. You should have some.”

Dean smiles, a genuine smile and not a playful smirk. “That sounds great.” Castiel gestures wordlessly to the kitchen.

…

They talk for a time that Castiel forgets to track, the conversation flowing in a never ending chain. It had started out uncomfortable, but once the ball got rolling, it was hard to stop. It was something Castiel had rarely experienced, a conversation that wasn’t awkward and stilted and hindered by his lack of knowledge on most things people his age found interesting. The topics lend themselves to one another, somehow taking them from the discussion of school to construction to cemeteries and penguins and the news… somehow it all fit together, but Castiel would never be able to trace the path.

All he can think about now is that he’s made Dean laugh several times now, and the sound of his laugh is something that he can’t get enough of. It’s then that he realizes that before today, he hasn’t really heard Dean laugh before.

“So the cop runs up, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to arrest me by the way he’s looking at me, but he goes for the carjacker instead, he _just_ saved my baby,” Dean recounted, finishing the story of how his father’s Impala was almost stolen.

That’s one more thing he knows about Dean now, that he’s really into cars. A full on teenage mechanic. And Castiel can’t help admiring that, because it’s something he never would’ve guessed, and it’s a skill he doesn’t have. Somehow, it makes perfect sense. Every new piece of information he learns, he folds in into his overall impression of Dean’s personality.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, it’s going to be so much harder to get over Dean now. After this taste, he’s addicted.

He’s startled by the sound of heavy footsteps coming through the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Anna and Sam, bundled up and dusted with snow, ambling over to the door to shed their jackets and boots.

“Dean,” he mumbles. “Sam’s leaving soon, so I guess I’ll go and get your jacket?”

The smile slides from Dean’s face, his stare growing intense. It’s then that Castiel realizes how close they are; he had been so absorbed in the conversation that he has not noticed their proximity, that they’re so close they share the same breath. They’re both leaning against the kitchen island, mere inches apart.

“Before I go, I need you to tell me one thing.” The expression on Dean’s face is one Castiel has never seen before.

He gulps. “Yes, Dean?”

“Do you like me?” His voice seems to drop an octave and the intensity in his gaze burns.

It’s so _direct._ It’s not at all how he imagined. But maybe… maybe it’s better. “ _Yes.”_

Dean leans in closer, letting his fingers brush the side of Castiel’s face. He can feel Dean’s breath, he can hear his heart pounding in his ears and the screaming of dead silence and time _crawling_ by. He’s repeating to himself that this is indeed happening, over and over again. This moment feels longer that it surely is, because Dean wouldn’t stare into his eyes this long, he would just-

And Dean presses his lips against his, hands gently cradling his face. It’s soft and light and lasts two seconds, but then Castiel pulls Dean’s face closer and kisses him back, and it’s better than he ever imagined it to be during all those days of mindless, obvious staring. This is the real, flesh and blood _Dean Winchester_ making out with Castiel in his kitchen, and every second makes it harder and harder to think. He can’t focus on anything except Dean, his realness, his warmth, the soothing brushes of his hands-

“Castiel!” comes Anna’s voice, echoing from around the corner. He and Dean immediately spring apart, breathing hard. “Sam’s leaving! He needs Dean back!” Her voice gets louder by the second, she’s coming towards the kitchen. And there are two sets of footsteps.

Dean straightens up, exhaling loudly and offering Castiel a shy smile. “Um… keep the jacket. You can give it back to me… whenever you feel like it.”

Castiel laughs. “That’s only going to function as a believable excuse for so long, Winchester.”

He shrugs. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Before he can reply, Sam and Anna enter the room; Sam with the most irritating of irritating smiles. “Had fun, Dean?”

Dean scowls, walking over to Sam and ruffling his hair. “We’re leaving.”

Sam grins, shuffling towards the door. “If you say so.” He picks up his fluffy jacket from where it was apparently discarded on the floor and zips it up. Castiel watches as Dean does the same with his windbreaker.

It’s also very hard for Cas not to notice that Dean keep stealing glances at him at every possible moment.

“Bye, Sam!” chimes Anna, waving a gloved hand enthusiastically as her friend opens the front door. Castiel winces at the sudden gust of chilly air.

“See you at school,” he replies. Just as he’s about to step out the door, he whirls around to face Castiel. “I almost forgot!”

Castiel raises a single eyebrow. “Oh?”

He nods fervently. Sam digs one hand into his coat pocket, bringing out a slip of paper and shoving it towards him. “It’s Dean’s phone number!” he exclaims, giddy with joy.

Dean gasps out loud. “Sammy!”

Sam just shrugs. “Hey, I knew you’d forget to give it to him.”

Dean looks like he’s searching for something to say, but he gives up. "Bitch." Sam's smile only grows wider.

Laughing, Castiel reaches out to pluck the paper from Sam’s outstretched fingers and slip it into his pocket. “Thank you, Sam.”

Anna pouts, crossing her arms. Yes, she's definitely going to pester him for details afterwards, but he'd rather not think about that now...

The Dean drags Sam out the door, jumping the porch steps instead of walking down. “Goodbye, Dean,” Castiel breathes, once again failing to be remotely audible. But Dean turns back, _he's heard,_ one corner of his mouth turned up.

“See you, around…Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it wasn't that terrible! Have a nice day.


End file.
